The Fever
by Willowstead
Summary: A little addition to the Joining - a nasty fever that could destroy the mind of a Grey Warden. Can Elinora Cousland survive it and should Alistair help? This is my first fic, so please review but be gentle
1. Chapter 1

The Fever

(Slight change from canon – Post-Joining there is now a fever, a special one brought on by the taint. And a hospital tent, because, really, who leaves the injured out in a field?)

Elinora lay on the cot where the King's men had dropped her. She lay sprawled, still in her grubby armor. The fever had taken her quickly. Sweat slicked every inch of skin, and plastered her chestnut hair to her face and neck. She was flushed a deep red and her eyes were open, terrified and staring into nothing. She flinched and twitched at things only she could perceive.

Alistair had seen this before, even though he was relatively new to the Grey Wardens. She was trapped in the fevered nightmare that was often brought on by the Joining. Tradition said he should leave her to come out of it on her own; this was, after all, part of the test. But for some reason he felt compelled to stay with her, which he never had with the others. Maybe it was compassion, maybe it was because they needed Grey Wardens, and maybe, just maybe, it was the luminous blue-green eyes that didn't see him, or anything in the hospital tent. Maybe if he helped bring down the fever, she would come out of it faster and with her mind intact. Alistair went the worktable and started to make a cold compress.

His back was to her when she screamed, a wrenching cry that made him drop the rag he was about to soak in cold water.

Elinora sat bolt up right on the cot and started tearing at her body. "It burns!" The reality of a cot and leather armor was not the one she was living in. Her terrified movements implied she was trying to take off plate armor, instead of the simple leather she wore. In the delirious panic, she managed to throw herself off the cot and on to the ground. She screamed again and rolled, trying to smoother the flames that burned her mind.

Alistair fell beside her and started pulling at the buckles and ties that held the armor in place, her flailing making it difficult. She kicked and bucked, trying to escape what she must have seen as an assailant. Nightmare or no, getting her out of the armor was practical. She would rest more comfortably. He heard the puritanical voices of the cloister in the back of his mind, berating him for undressing a strange woman. He pushed them aside. This wasn't sex, it was mercy.

Alistair pinned her in stages, trying very hard not to hurt her. He would get most of her body under his control, leaving one hand free to take off a piece of armor. All he had to do was get the fasteners undone, and then Elinora's own convulsions would shake it off. Under other circumstances, this could have been fun. As it was, he developed a bruised appreciation for her well-muscled limbs. A blind punch to his eye was going receive comments around the campfires.

This was no delicate noblewoman, soft skin of her naked belly or not.

He was pulling off her boot when Elinora suddenly stilled, body and breath. "Who…." Her eyes refocused on him. "Alistair?"

He only got so far as to open his mouth to reply, when she fainted.

He had a moment of panic, which eased as he felt her pulse. It was there, strong and a little too fast, beating under the delicate skin of her neck. He shook himself and finished getting the last of her armor off. Alistair tried to think of himself more of a squire, assisting his knight with her armor, until the last piece of leather was cast aside. Her sweat-soaked skivvies clung to her, both miserable and provocative, but removing them was a step he just couldn't take. He picked her up, gentle as a newborn babe, and lay her back down on the cot.

The fever burned on, now maybe just a little cooler. He covered her with the thinnest blanket he could find and finished getting that cold compress, just a rag soaked in cold water. He delicately draped it over her forehead, his hand resting on it for just a moment too long.

There. He should go. She was as taken care of as he was capable of, and more than she should be. The Joining was meant to test the mettle of those who sought to be Grey Wardens. This was the last stage. Surviving the fever-dreams brought on by the taint with her mind intact meant that she not only was destined to join their number, but also was going to be a great leader.

Still, he couldn't pull himself away. He found reasons to stay besides her. Her armor had been thrown all over the tent and needed cleaning. Alistair drew on every ounce of fussiness he could find until each strap gleamed. The compress needed to be re-wet every once in a while, so as to keep it cool. He even managed to get some water down her throat. He propped her up against his own body and trickled it into her mouth. Stroking her throat caused the muscles to reflexively swallow. More water ended up out of her mouth than in, but it was something, and an excuse to touch her.

"Thought I would find you here," a gruff voice rasped from the tent flap. Duncan strode in, a bowl in his hand. He found Alistair with the Cousland girl leaning against him. She was still unconscious, but seemed to be improving.

"I…uh… was just…" Alistair stammered.

"Of course you were." Duncan smiled slyly. "Here, eat this." He shoved the bowl of stew into Alistair's hands. "I was hoping she'd be awake and ready to eat, but the fever seems to have taken this one badly."

Alistair got up hastily, but careful of the patient draped against him. He took the bowl from Duncan's hand. "She was having a nightmare, threw herself out of bed. She screamed out about burning and tried to rip off her own armor. That's why she's undressed." Alistair tried to hide his blush behind a bite of stew.

"All by herself?" Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Its just as well." He looked closely at Elinora, opening one eyelid, touching her cheek. "I think she's going to make it, but maybe you should stay with her. Once she comes out of this she's going to need food and water. And if the fever dreams come back, it would be good to have someone to put her back in bed."

Duncan shook his head, smiled just a little and turned to leave, noting before ducking out of the hospital tent "That's nice work on the armor."

Alistair, for no reason he could fathom, blushed again.

***

The night drifted by. The noise coming from camp was the only thing that gave Alistair any idea of the time. At first it was busy; soldiers talking over dinner, taking care of the chores of army life and maybe just a bit of drunken gambling. But all that faded as the men turned into their blankets and only those on watch stirred. The quiet was eerie and unnatural, and only broken by the sounds Elinora made in her plagued sleep.

He busied himself with small tasks, ones he could easily set aside if she needed him. His own armor was in need of cleaning and not the most comfortable thing to spend the night in. He took it off, much more comfortable in a simple tunic and breeches, and started to work.

Dreams came and went all night. She fought a battle and with her brother, then thanked someone for the flowers (she liked flowers, good to know) and sang a childern's song about a happy pig. Alistair caught himself wondering about where she was in these dreams. Sometimes one dreamed of things from their past, sometimes of things from the Warden's past, history long since dead. Some dreams were nothing more than the hallucinations brought on by the taint and one's own mind.

It seemed the worst was over, but she found another violent battle. This time she was running, her bare feet pounding the cot. She stopped to fight, her arms swinging what appeared to be a sword and dagger. This battle was different from the others. There was desperation, as if the world was collapsing around her. In her dream she dodged a blow, which tumbled her off of the cot again. She pulled herself off the ground and with her arms raised and reaching, cried out for her parents. She lunged in a final attempt to hold them, but found Alistair instead. He cradled her to his body as hers was wracked with sobs.

"Elinora?" She made no more response than to continue to cry. Crying women were not a great part of Alistair's experience. He felt useless, but followed his instinct. He held her, whispering soft reassurances and rocking just a little as if she was a child. The choking sobs eased into simple tears. They eventually subsided and she slipped into a more natural sleep, curled up in the safety of Alistair's arms.

He should put her back into bed, but somehow he couldn't let go of the fragile girl in his arms. Fragile. It wasn't a word he would have attached to her earlier, but at this moment the slightest wrong move could send her back into the nightmares. He risked reaching for the damp rag. She stirred a little, but he was able to get hold of it and gently clean her tear-streaked face. Once more he tried to convince himself to put her back to bed, and once more he decided to stay right where he was. He wrapped the blanket around them both and drifted into an uneasy sleep, his head leaning against hers.

***

Duncan returned just before dawn. Alistair, awake now, still sat on the ground with Elinora curled tightly in his arms. At the sight of Duncan, he put a finger to his lips and very carefully picked her and himself off the ground. He settled her on the cot, tucking the blanket around her for modesty's sake, if not for warmth.

"She's really asleep now. Even breathing, steady pulse, and hasn't uttered a peep in a while." Alistair seemed a bit proud that his charge was doing so well.

"Good." Duncan commented. "Now you need to go and get some rest. I'll take over the vigil."

Alistair hesitated, looking back at the sleeping Elinora. Sleep, good peaceful sleep was such a brilliant idea. He nodded to Duncan, and left.

***

Elinora awoke about mid-morning, first prompted by her stomach and then by the raging headache that pounded behind her eyes. She sat up and noticed it was remarkably chilly.

Oh, she thought, that's because I'm almost naked.

Realization hit fast and she pulled the thin blanket around her to cover herself. Duncan, mixing a health poultice at a worktable, chuckled softly and brought her a cup of water. "Good morning. How do you feel?"

"Like the tower guards used my head for archery practice." She downed the cup greedily. Water had never tasted so good. "Ah, is there a reason I'm practically naked?"

Duncan chuckled again, taking the empty cup from her and replacing it with a bowl of thin soup that had been warmed over a brazier. She drank it. "Apparently you thought your armor was on fire last night and tried to rip it off."

"And succeeded too," she commented between gulps.

"No, Alistair helped get you out of it before you damaged it or yourself."

Crimson crept up her cheeks. The bowl lowered. "Alistair?"

"Yes, and he was much the same color as you are when he told me. He stood vigil beside you all night."

She looked into her soup, embarrassment welling from her noblewoman's upbringing. She sipped her soup. "I shall have to thank him, once I have some proper clothes on." A perplexed expression crept across her face as she ate. "Duncan, I thought the Grey Wardens went through the Joining alone? That we would either live or die by our own constitutions?"

Duncan nodded. "True enough, but sometimes the situation calls for an exception."

Elinora's eyes narrowed and she sat up stiffly, lowering the bowl. "I am not some delicate noblewoman who needs cosseting. Let fate temper or break me on my own measure."

"Very well said, but the exception was not for you. It was for Alistair." Duncan took the now empty bowl from her, bid her get some more rest and left without another word of explanation.

What in the Maker's name did that mean?


	2. Chapter 2

The Fever – Chapter 2

She found him hours later, after a very long nap, sitting by a large fire and playing with Finn. The Marbari War Hound was behaving like an uncivilized puppy, chasing and fetching a large stick, which Alistair was obediently throwing whenever it was brought to him. She watched the boys play for a moment, enjoying its innocence. She wished her heart could feel as light as they looked, but there was too much weighing it down. Elinora felt a moment's dizziness and borrowed a tree for support.

Maker's breath, steady! No fainting, swooning or simpering for any reason! No more being a little girl. Daddy's not here to protect you anymore…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tears threatened, but she shoved them down.

And then the stick hit her in the shoulder.

Followed by Finn.

Finn forgot the stick and instead greeted his mistress with a thousand doggie kisses. Ferocious war hound indeed.

Alistair came running over, sword drawn and ready for an enemy combatant. He stopped when he saw who had been pounced and, adding insult to minor injury, started laughing. Elinora managed to extricate herself from the attentive hound. Alistair helped her up and received a punch in the arm for his troubles, which was totally ineffective due to his armor. And he wasn't Fergus, who was usually the one laughing and getting punched in the arm for teasing his sister.

She pulled back her offending fist, and stammered, "Sorry. Force of habit."

"No, no, I totally deserved it. And I apologize, for laughing. It was just…," he shrugged, "adorable."

Elinora rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. She walked over to the fire, Finn at her heels and started into it. "I came to thank you. I understand you stayed with me last night, took care of me."

"Well, I…"

"Took off my armor."

"Uh… um…"

"And gave it a magnificent cleaning." She turned to face him, an innocent smile on her face. It didn't quite reach her eyes. "Which a certain over-enthusiastic hound dog has ruined."

"I never… oh, right. The Marbari." Alistair had started with a nice blush, but was now going an alarming shade of scarlet.

Elinora's smile went wicked. She was enjoying watching squirm a little. "His name is Finn. Anyway, I hope I didn't inconvenience you last night, I really do appreciate your… attentions."

She turned and walked away.

Finn looked between Alistair and Elinora, smiled his doggie smile, and then followed her down the path.

He watched them go. He liked watching her go, but wanted her to come back, or turn or something. He even hoped for a smile, a real one.

"Grey Wardens!"

Alistair jumped at the sudden voice that came from behind, making his armor rattle in a most unmanly way. Elinora stopped and turned to see who called them. A foot soldier ran up to Alistair. "You are requested to attend Duncan and his Majesty in council immediately."

Elinora nodded once and turned towards the ruins.

He put on what he hoped was a charming smile and fell in besides her, the soldier running on ahead. "You ever been in a battle before?"

"No." She answered decisively, then thought better of it. "Well, yes. Now. Getting out of Highever in one piece was definitely a battle. I suppose that little trip through the Wilds didn't count?"

Alistair shrugged. "Nah, that was more of a violent walk."

"Wonderful."

"Now what we're expecting here is a formal assault with reinforcements and charges and everything."

"Shield walls too?" she asked with a dark playfulness.

"Maybe, that's up for the king and Duncan to decide. I, for one, am very excited. I can't wait to get out there, kill some darkspawn side-by-side with Cailin and Duncan."

She shook her head. "You sound like little boys playing at war. It all changes once you lose those you love." Her pace suddenly quickened, bringing her into the ruin and out of the conversation ahead of him.

Suddenly last night's nightmares made sense to Alistair. How could he be so stupid? She had cried out for her parents, reached for them. He'd held her while she wept for them. He'd been so distracted by her, well, femaleness to notice what she was babbling about.

Idiot.

He'd make it up to her, somehow.


End file.
